


I reaaalllly shouldn't get used to this.

by thesleepypanda



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Damien is trying? sorta??, Fuck the AM, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Motel coma recovery oh no, Nightmares, Okay so I said hurt/comfort but still ends with angst, Someone help sweet baby Mark, i am what i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29538060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesleepypanda/pseuds/thesleepypanda
Summary: Mark pulled back the comforter and gestured for him to climb underneath. “I won’t make a habit of this, I swear. That was just….well, it was a really bad one.” He rolled onto his side and furrowed his brow. “Andpleasedon’t try to make me talk about it.”Damien bit back a retort. Mark did not need his scathing sarcasm right now, and as much as Damien hated to admit it, his concern made sense. Guilt seeped into the edge of his mind but he quickly stamped it out. Wanting to know about his time at the AM didn't make him a bad person. Itdidn’t.
Relationships: Mark Bryant/Damien
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	I reaaalllly shouldn't get used to this.

Damien’s eyes shot open abruptly, but his shock and confusion melted away within seconds. The sharp gasps that pierced the silence were nothing new. Mark’s nightmares were relentless, and their unspoken rule was to acknowledge them as little as possible. He slowly closed his eyes again, but he knew he didn’t have a chance of falling back asleep until Mark calmed down.

Only...he wasn’t settling down. His sharp breaths were getting louder and closer together and _fuck_ was he holding back a sob? Damien rolled onto his side. The lights were off, but the blinds were half hanging off the wall and the neon signs shone in, lighting Mark softly in strange colors. The rustle of the blankets made him jump and he quickly turned to face Damien. His dark eyes looked panicked, and they were definitely shinier than usual.

Damien cleared his throat and attempted to make his deep, rough voice come out softly. “Do you want me to...make you feel calm?” 

Mark shook his head emphatically, and tightened his grip on the comforter. Yeah, that reaction made sense — he was probably dreaming about the fucking AM again. He briefly considered doing it anyway, reaching into his mind just a little, but he’d been trying to use his powers on him less. Sure, he was still making Mark stay inside, stay with _him_ , talk about his ability when Damien wanted. But he was getting better and better at sensing Damien's pull, and he didn’t want him to feel controlled _every_ second of every day.

Mark was definitely starting to hyperventilate. Shit. Before he fully registered what he was doing, Damien sat up and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Is it okay if I, uh, come sit by you?”

He was silent for a long moment. “Yeah, okay, yeah,” he finally managed to choke out. 

Damien carefully sat at the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible. Not that much distance was possible in a twin-sized bed. He grimaced as he glanced down at the comforter. Cheap, with a plasticy sort of feel, in a teal and pink floral pattern that was clearly straight out of the 80s. Mark deserved so much better than this. He deserved fluffy white comforters and silk sheets in Paris, or funky hipster quilts in San Francisco, or whatever the fuck he liked. Not this. 

Up close, he could see that Mark’s entire body was shaking. Christ. He slowly placed his hand, palm up, between them. “Would this help?”

Instead of grabbing it, he suddenly surged forward and buried his face in Damien’s chest.

“Woah.”

This was certainly new. Damien gingerly placed a hand on his back and winced. His white t-shirt was completely soaked through, and he could feel _each notch_ of his spine prominently. What the fuck had he been thinking? Taking someone severely traumatized and fresh out of a coma and thinking that _he_ could somehow take care of him? “Just breathe,” he muttered, helplessly. He scowled imagining what Dr. B would think of his attempts at comfort.

He dutifully stroked his back, and miraculously, his breathing eventually began to level out. When he finally managed to take a deep, shuddering breath, he quickly rolled away from Damien and stared at the ceiling.

“I’ll just—” as Damien started to rise, a thin _ice-cold_ hand shot out and gripped his wrist. Hard. 

“Stay?” And when he heard that soft, unsure tone, how could he ever deny him anything? Mark Bryant was going to be the death of him.

“Uh, okay. Sure.”

Mark pulled back the comforter and gestured for him to climb underneath. “I won’t make a habit of this, I swear. That was just….well, it was a really bad one.” He rolled onto his side and furrowed his brow. “And _please_ don’t try to make me talk about it.”

Damien bit back a retort. Mark didn't need his scathing sarcasm right now, and as much as Damien hated to admit it, his concern made sense. Guilt seeped into the edge of his mind but he quickly stamped it out. Wanting to know about his time at the AM didn’t make him a bad person. It _didn’t._

“Alright,” he mumbled, scooting underneath the covers. He’d barely settled in before Mark tucked himself against his chest, and wrapped an arm across his waist. He clutched his shirt in one hand, as if he could keep Damien there by sheer force. Fat chance, but he wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He hesitantly put his hand in Mark’s hair, and gently stroked the greasy, matted curls. It would probably be beautiful if he actually took care of it, but showering seemed to take a lot of energy out of him and appearances weren’t exactly a priority for either of them right now. He stroked his hair for a long, long time, and eventually wrapped his other arm around his waist and pulled him a little closer. Mark _melted_ into him, and suddenly Damien was completely overwhelmed by how good this felt. This closeness. He hadn’t touched another person like this in almost a decade. He quickly caught himself; he couldn’t think about how badly he wanted this, not right now, not while Mark was in such close proximity. And fuck, _none of this was fair._

“Damien?”

 _“What?”_ He snapped, shackles up. Mark flinched and he was immediately wracked with guilt. 

“Nothing, it’s just — you’re crying.”

His hand stilled and he reached up to feel the dampness on his face. “Huh. I guess I am.”

Mark titled his head so he could glance up at him without moving. “Feel like talking about it?”

“No. I just...also had a pretty fucked up dream. It’s coming back to me.” Damien gently, ever so gently, dipped into his mind to ensure he believed the lie. Mark settled back down into his chest and gave his waist a tight squeeze. “We’re quite the pair.”

Damien went back to stroking his hair and desperately tried to think of something, _anything,_ other than how much he wanted this thing with Mark. What was the plan for tomorrow? Plans were good. They were somewhere in Texas, heading towards the west coast. But definitely not towards LA. Maybe San Diego? He wouldn’t mind seeing the Pacific again. They needed to get gas in the morning. Donuts. They’d get donuts. Everyone likes donuts, right? Maybe he’d try to find somewhere a little nicer tomorrow night. It was riskier, but every now and then it was worth it. Somewhere with a pool. Mark would like that and he’d like seeing Mark happy (and shirtless) and hold up. _Stupid,_ stupid. The whole point was to not think about how much he wanted Mark. He glanced down and realized he’d drifted off; his breathing was now soft and even. Damien smiled to himself. He’d actually helped calm him down. The old fashioned way. Take _that,_ Dr. B.

He didn’t sleep that night; didn't even try. He didn’t want to miss a single second of holding him like this. This moment was on borrowed time. He watched the sun rise through the broken blinds and told himself they could do this. They just had to fix Mark’s power and then they could be equals. Damien could tell him how he actually felt without worrying that he was forcing Mark to feel the same way. 

They could do it. 

It would work. 

It _had_ to work.


End file.
